


In The Bower Of A Faery Queen

by Aoife, IShouldBeWriting



Series: In Search Of ... [4]
Category: Jungle Book - Rudyard Kipling, Labyrinth (1986), Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: Changling Child, Fae Mischief For Fun And Profit, Gen, Hey Wait Your Backstory Is Showing, Stealing Fashion Tips From Pre-Raphaelite Paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Aoife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBeWriting/pseuds/IShouldBeWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of the frying pan and into the fire with you, Sarah ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Bower Of A Faery Queen

“Oh my head,” Sarah groaned, eyes crusted shut by far too much sand.

“Shhhh.... she’s waking up,” a voice to her right said.

Sarah tilted her head in the voice’s direction, moving very carefully around muscles stiff with abuse. 

“Shouldn’t we go get -” asked a second voice, closer than the first but still on her right.

“No,” said the third firmly. This voice was deeper than the other two, but still child-like in its tenor. “She’s not to be disturbed right now. Himself is with her.”

“Uh oh...” the first voice replied, “In which case we’d best be careful that Robin doesn’t find us. Last thing we want is for him to go poking his ears into this mess. You know how he is.”

“He’s fluttering around the changeling with Himself and Herself.” The third voice informed them scornfully.

“Not that again,” whined the second voice, “When are those two going to stop squabbling over the boy like dogs with a bone?”

“When the stars go cold and the worlds burn, that’s when, Cobweb. It’s just a way for the two of them to argue without their courts going to war.” The fourth voice was colder and harder. 

“Well I wish they’d just give up that game already. It’s getting old. Robin’s still holding a grudge from the last _’changling child’_ those two fought over. Once Himself finally had her, the poor brat got dumped in Robin’s lap. And well, you know how Robin is. Wouldn’t trust him to take care of a cat, that one!”

One of the individuals poked Sarah in the side rather viciously. “You were waking, you stupid thing, come on!” 

Sarah grimaced but tried opening her eyes regardless. “Okay, okay, I’m working on it. Are you always this pushy?”

A wet cloth smacked down on her face, filling her eyes with grit and dribbling lukewarm water down into her hair. 

“You’d best get yourself cleaned up stupid girl. Herself’s going to want to see you once she’s done negotiating.”

“Oh, so it’s _negotiating_ , that the two of them are calling it now, is it?” The second voice oozed sarcastically. “More like a little kiss, kiss, slap, slap, if you know what I mean, the last time I was made to wait on those two.”

“We’re not going round that bit of complaining again. Just be thankful they didn’t ask any of us to wait on them this time; I was beginning to think they’d become exhibitionists. And at least it means we can’t be called to testify to their behaviour before the courts when they finally do break the treaty. Because you know, if anyone’s going to end up breaking it, it’s going to be those two.”

“But I thought that Jareth -”

“Jareth?” Sarah’s voice rose shrilly as she sat up far too fast and the room spun before her eyes. Eight faces peered at her from the mottled patchwork of greenery and shadows in which they were all sitting. “Whoa. Too fast.”

“Stupid girl. Danu knows why that jinn even left you alive. You’re too stupid to be useful.”

“Am not!” Sarah retorted hotly, whipping her head round to face the grouchiest of the blurred spots that she thought should be faces.

She blinked furiously, trying to focus, only to see a funny kind of doubled image, layered together like two badly interlaced video frames from one of her worn out VHS tapes. 

_”Why are you wearing two faces?”_ She thought, only to slap her hand over her mouth, horrified at her rudeness when she realize she’d spoken aloud.

“I love that cantrip. It makes dealing with humans _so_ much more entertaining.”

Sarah hastily shut her eyes again. “I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t have -”

“Not that old chestnut again,” the grouchy one complained and started prying at her eyelids. “No use trying to unsee us, stupid girl. What’s done is done. Besides, your human myths about looking at the Fae1 are all wrong anyways.”

“I wasn’t trying not to look at you,” Sarah said haughtily, “It’s my eyes. There’s still sand in them and my head hurts.”

“Whine, whine, whine, that’s all you changelings ever do. Now get on with it already and wipe that muck off your face. Herself’s got to be done _negotiating_ soon and when she is, she’s going to demand you be presented. And you’d best let us make you decent by Her standards before she asks for you, or there’ll be the devil’s price to pay for all of us, yourself included.”

The wet cloth smacked back against her face again, this time by a large hand with strong, thin fingers that wiped and scrubbed at her none too gently. 

“That hurts,” she complained, batting weakly at the hand that held the cloth.

“Shut _up_ you ungrateful girl,” the shrillest of the voices scolded from a distance. “We’re only trying to help 2.”

“Where have I heard that before ...” Sarah muttered.

***

“This itches,” Sarah complained. But Peaseblossom was unsympathetic, swatting her hands away sharply from where Sarah had been tugging at the tightly wrapped embellishing braidwork which criss-crossed her from waist to just below her breasts, cinching in the finely woven layers of the woolen shift that made up the main portion of her new garments.

“You’re at Herself’s court, and your old clothes were _not_ suitable for meeting Her while the court is in session.” Cobweb looked her up and down. “Count yourself lucky I didn’t burn them; they were barely suitable for a street harlot, bastard-child.”

“It might not be what you lot wear, but it’s perfectly acceptable and modest for my time,” Sarah snapped back as the quartet of Fae continued marching her down the corridor bracketed between them all. She’d already decided that of the lot of them, she liked Cob the least.

“And you are not in _your_ time,” Moth sniffed at her hair again “and under the traces of the Jinn’s magic, the only magic is your own, so you weren’t _forced_ into faerieland … I believe the humans have a saying about when in Rome?”

“Yes, yes,” Sarah conceded the point reluctantly. “And you know, I suppose these clothes are rather similar to Roman dress, aren’t they?”

“Don’t go letting Herself hear you saying that!” Peaseblossom advised quickly. “She never did forgive Hypolita for stealing Theseus away.” 

“Stupid child,” Cobweb muttered from his place behind her right elbow. “Hypolita wasn’t Roman, she was Athenian. Now hurry up. It won’t due to make Her Ladyship wait.”

Sarah squealed when Cobweb reinforced his words with a hard, twisting pinch to her ass. But she also did as she was told; she sped up her reluctant footsteps.

From his position in the lead, Mustardseed gave her a look over his shoulder. He’d been almost completely silent thus far and Sarah still couldn’t decide whether he was sympathetic to her or not. The look he gave right now was certainly an example of that; mixing an older sibling’s stern reproach with open arrogance and disdain. Obsequious Moth, elbowed him from her place at Mustardseed’s side.

“Just ignore her, Mustard. She’ll be out of our charge and hopefully out of M’Lady’s court soon enough. Most likely bartered away in exchange for favors from one of M’Lady’s allies. Oh, now there’s a thought … I’m certain a few of Her allies would just adore having a new pet to play with. After all, they do play a bit rough. Tend to break them so very easily … “

Moth’s watchful gaze told Sarah all she needed to know about the comment and it’s intended purposes. Raising her chin stubbornly, Sarah looked firmly over the shorter Fae’s head at the enormous carved doors they were approaching at the end of the corridor. Two imposing creatures, more rock and tree than human, stood watch at either side of the doorway. 

Moth’s chin raised in a clear gesture of superiority as she waved an imperious hand for the doors to be opened. From behind, Sarah felt Peaseblossom poke a sharp finger into her tailbone, forcing her spine to straighten. 

_After all, we mustn’t slouch when in the presence of royalty._ Sarah thought as her four tormentors marched her in to stand before the throne.

“Lady Titania, the bastard-child.” 

Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but the woman on the throne spoke first.

“Thank you, Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed. Now shoo.” The four faEries left her standing there on her own, and Sarah met the Shakespearean faerie queen’s eyes reluctantly, shivering slightly as the image doubled on her. One bore more than a passing resemblance to portraits she’d seen of England’s Elizabeth and the other was eerily ageless and cold.

“So, one of the jinn dropped you on my doorstep; whatever _shall_ I do with you, bastard-child?”

“Do _with_ me? And _stop_ calling me _bastard-child_ \- I have a _name_!”

The Fae laughed, a sound that tinkled with tiny bells and the shattering of glass. “So precious. And no, you don’t have a _name_ child. No one bothered to name you _properly_ before they threw you away; that’s why I get to decide what to do with you.”

“I. _HAVE_. A. Name!” Sarah sputtered indignantly. “And a family. And no one has thrown me away, Lady. You are quite mistaken in that.”

Sarah sucked in a breath and held it, eyes drifting shut as she counted slowly and tried to calm herself. _Never anger the Fae, stupid woman. Never contradict the Fae. It’s not like what they say is the whole of the truth. They just twist the truth in knots when it pleases them. Let them have their fun. There’s nothing says they’re actually right._

Deep inside, in the darkest, quietest, farthest corners, the shades of Sarah’s infancy, her childhood, crept slowly from their hiding places, made her wonder. Was there some truth to what Titania said? But only her father could answer that question. And he was safe, far from here. And Sarah had no desire for her straying thoughts to summon him forth to join her in the hell of this chaotic place. No, let him stay back in the human realms. Him and Toby. It was safer that way. Yes. Safer.

“We don’t lie, bastard-child. And even mortal naming ceremonies count if they’re completed correctly and the ones doing so had _blood-right_ to use it on you.” The Fae’s eyes were wickedly cold in both guises now.

“I thought my parents had named me properly, M’Lady. But if you say that wasn’t the case, then begging your pardon, what would _you_ suggest be done about the matter?” 

The gleam in the Fae’s eyes turned briefly lascivious, before transitioning to something rather more mischievous in nature. “Well we must have _something_ to call you, child. Continuing to call you bastard simply won’t do. Not when in polite company, at the very least. I’ll make a bargain with you. You can go by your _human_ name for now while I devise a quest. If you succeed, you have the right to choose your own naming. Fail, and that right belongs to me and with it your _role_ in this realm.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed as she thought for a moment about the proposition. “Done,” she said, finding that she couldn’t identify a specific trap, a reason to object. Besides, she always had enjoyed a good challenge …

“Boy!” Titania called imperiously. 

A child, maybe ten years old or so with skin the dusty dry color of rich soil and eyes like drops of chocolate came forward at the faerie queen’s summons.

“You know the ways of humans. Take this one and make her comfortable for the night. My own servants have better things to do with their time.”

“āpa kī taraha, My Lady.”

Sarah trailed after the boy, who seemed to move with an odd, fluid grace, one not quite in fitting with the mortal humanity Titania implied he possessed. 

“You’re human?” Sarah asked bluntly, not knowing how else to start the conversation with this strange child.

“Or something like it,” the boy replied.

“Sarah,” she said, hurrying to keep up with his ground-eating strides. “My name, it’s Sarah.”

“No,” he shot back, never breaking stride, “your name, like mine, is whatever She wills it to be.”

“Then what would your name be if you were still in the human realms?”

“Mog’li,” he said, the words rolling around his tongue inside his mouth like they were a novelty to shape.

Sarah opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before responding, thoughts racing and tumbling over each other in a bid to free themselves, and tripping on the tip of her tongue before they could actually escape.

“Do you -” She started to ask. “Were you once -” She tried again. Finally, she gave up.

 _Mog’li … Mowgli,_ she thought, the name did indeed roll around the inside of the mouth. Was Rudyard Kipling’s wild boy one and the same with Titania’s changeling child? He looked right, acted as she would have expected but … what was he doing _here_ of all places? 

“So, how did you come to be in service to the faery queen?” Sarah asked as she continued to follow him through the twisting turning corridors of the castle and its wooded bowers.

“My mother once served her, and was set free because Titania loved her. But she died. For a while I lived in the jungle. But I could see them - the fair ones - and eventually one of the dark ones stole me away. Yet my mother’s service gives Titania first claim to me, so I serve her rather than that thief.”

“This jungle you lived in, how did you survive there on your own? You’re still so young -” At Mog’li’s defensive scowl, Sarah bit off the end of the sympathetic statement.

“I relied on my wits and my own two hands,” he blustered proudly, “though some of the animals helped, became my allies eventually. But it was _my_ skills that kept me alive. I am a man grown, capable with a spear and keen-eyed with a sling. I do not need others help to protect myself now.”

Looking the slender boy’s body up and down, Sarah had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “I’m sure you are …”

**Author's Note:**

> 1: Katharine Briggs, _An Encyclopedia of Fairies, Hobgoblins, Brownies, Boogies, and Other Supernatural Creatures_ "Infringement of fairy privacy", p 233
> 
> 2: That’s an almost but not quite perfect quote from the Helping Hands scene in [_Labyrinth_](http://www.astrolog.org/labyrnth/captions.txt)


End file.
